Forever Yours
by IBloodyLovett13
Summary: Aranea Serket makes her return to the one that promised to love her forever, and Aranea is quite sure that she's ready to love her back.
1. Forever Hers

The library was silent, even more so than usual, and lacking the warm din of rustling pages and footsteps echoing against the marble floors. The domed cathedral ceilings and ornate walls offered no shelter to what came from within. The lone inhabitant, a weary Aranea Serket, sat with the company of her books between two of the tall mahogany shelves. Her fingers slid over the smooth leather of her journal, a cerulean sigil accenting the textured cover and a small, sturdy brass lock over the pages to hold it all closed.

Keep it all in.

Shut it all away.

She shuddered upon setting the cool surface atop her lap, sitting with her back against a carefully organised shelf and her legs crossed. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she drew a little antique key from the breast pocket of her dress. With a deafening click through the muted world of the library, she slid the little lock out if place and opened the journal. Prim and proper hand writing in the elegant scratch of a quill filled the pages as she flipped, in the same slow movements, to two slightly torn pages somewhere about three quarters through the book, the only pages not adorned with the cerulean letters of Aranea's own hand.

Beautiful jade letters looped in neat little lines across the two pages open to Aranea's lonely gaze. Her heart, her head, her world, were so heavy. So heavy, it seemed at that moment, that Aranea would break. Shatter under the weight of the single tear rolling over her solemn cheek and dissolve in to those painfully familiar jade letters that she had read more often than her own favorite novel. Had she wanted to, she could close her eyes and follow each sloping line and hear the words echoing through her mind, in reality silent as the library.

It was her fault. It was her own fault and it was that fault that filled the tear leaving a cerulean trail along her cheek. Her fault. Her guilt that threatened to crush her and bring her world to a slow, passive end. At this point, reading over and over again the neatly written 'I lo+ve yo+u, darling' etched forever on the page of her journal and on her heart, she wouldn't have minded the crushing. Wouldn't have minded if it meant not supporting the weight for another day.

Another week.

Another perigee, sweep, lifetime in their infinite time left in the dream bubbles. Each time she read them over again, those same four words screaming and whispering all at once in her mind, her chest squeezed. Another pain for each crack in her heart of finest china under an anvil of burden that she alone was responsible for.

A sigh of regret, shaking with that weight, left her lungs in a slow rush. The library knew her secrets, her sadness, and each sigh found its place alongside the abundance of books on her shelves. The little brass lock was left to fail yet again at its sole job from its place on her thigh, could only sit solemnly as everything she and it worked so hard every day to contain came pouring out yet again in a torrent of love, loss, and hurt.

Too many days she sat alone in the library with her secrets and regret, her tears and her pain, her little brass lock occupying the space on her thigh, and the words of the pade leaping in to her heart though it sat far down in the pit of her stomach. They fit their jade loops in to her body, engulfing her in warmth and fire, cold and loneliness. Never has such beautiful writings been such horrible torment for her.

Fo+rever yo+urs, Po+rrim Maryam

They said. Forever hers. Forever had been cut short by the hasty knife of Aranea's own doubt and insecurity. Her sweet angel fell, fell down and down in to her own silently screaming library and room of shelved secrets. Down to her knees. Down to the bed of another that did not love her as Aranea had.

As Aranea did.

So often she saw Porrim on the arm of another after that day that she had seen Porrim kiss a friend under the mistletoe and stormed away. A friendly peck at the corner of the lips, and age old tradition. She had left Porrim there and simply gone home whilst the rest of the guests refilled their cups and toasted to love, laughter, and happiness. Porrim came to Aranea's home a while later, confused and inquiring as to where she had gone. She was devastated as Aranea informed her, fighting tears and in a voice as cold as her shaking fingers on the pages of the journal, that they were no longer together. Porrim was sent away, back to her own lonely home, in tears, the last words they had spoken to eachother since then spiteful or pleading. Aranea's own insecurities made her send away the woman she loved, who loved her unconditionally, and had been Forever Hers.

She returned to the library after reliving that moment for what felt like the millionth time. Eight sweeps since Aranea Serket, the smartest troll any of her friends had ever known, had made her mistake. Common sense dictates that each living being will make countless mistakes in their lifetime, though Aranea made few and very seldom forgave herself for those she did.

She silently vowed to herself and the library around her that, after so many sweeps of regret, hurt, and watching Porrim put her beautiful mind and body to shame sleeping with whomever she could, she would make amends. If Porrim would not have her back as a matesprit, then so be it, but she had to rid herself of the terrible weight. She didn't know how much more she could take.


	2. Rainbow Drinker Heart

Porrim lay staring silently at the ceiling, white even through the gloom of night though strange and unfamiliar to her. For the third time that week she found herself in a bed that wasn't her own and beside the sleeping form of a troll that wasn't who she wanted them to be. Rarely since her falling out with Aranea had she enjoyed her encounters by night for longer than the immediate amount if time they took. An hour or so of relief and she was dragged back in to her own dark mind.

No light.

Endless love.

Love for the one that turned her away for a reason that she, even after so much time, was completely oblivious to. She spent hours working it over in her mind and though she was nothing if not clever, she could come to no conclusions apart from her own existence as to what could have repulsed Aranea so. She fathomed and pondered every possible reason that came through her mind and could only think to blame herself.

She would never have her back. In the eight sweeps since their sudden parting, Porrim had garnered quite a reputation amongst their friends, and indeed among more than a few strangers, as a slut and one rather incapable of emotion beyond list and apathy. Surely she made no attempt to correct them, as they were a least partially correct about her apathetic outlook, but they were also terribly mistaken. She felt a great deal more than that, her heart glowing vibrantly with seemingly unrequited love for the woman she once called her own.

Her beautiful, high strung, bibliophilic cerulean blood with a knowledge as all encompassing and varied as her library.

The glow of her rainbow drinker heart was dim, dulled by loneliness and rejection. All the emotionless pailing in the world couldn't bring it to glow even a fraction as bright as it had the first time Aranea told Porrim she loved her.

While Aranea was by no means her first and certainly not her last, Porrim had never felt quite the same with anyone. The sweet and clumsy fumblings of Aranea's delicate fingers on the silk laces of her corset. The vibrant blush slowly taking over her features as Porrim kissed her softly and took over, removing it with ease as Aranea mumbles embarrassed apologies. Her quiet little voice finally announcing to the near empty room that it was her first time. Porrim knew that what they did and everything they had meant something she couldn't let go of Aranea, each memory of her smile, her voice, her touch, was Porrim's lifeline.

Slowly, she rose from beneath the silk sheets of the stranger's bed and dressed herself, well past the point of shame for her actions and simply longing for a glass of cherry wine on her own familiar sofa. Porrim at least knew the hive well enough to escort herself out, her stockings, bra, and panties hastily tucked in to her purse and the click of her heels on the concrete step echoing in to the rippling moonlight that flooded the street with soft white light. The night had always been a friend to her, but with its cool cover and protection from prying, pitying, judging eyes, it brought memories.

A memory.

The memory of her only heartbreak. She went home that night sobbing, relaying Aranea's exact words in her mind until she made herself sick and doing it again and again to the point where her throat was sore and her knuckles were bruised from gripping her bathroom counter. Porrim slept on the floor with a sweaty that smelled of Aranea's perfume for weeks, until both her and the fabric of the sweater were worn.

Tattered.

Worthless.

With an empty mind and numb body, Porrim began to sew. She sat at the noisy, feverish little machine until her fingers bled and she ran out of fabric. The pile of garments she had made on her floor, no one to wear them and their newly crafted shapes already wrinkled. She had to find something to keep herself busy, though a journal was completely put of the question and cooking wasn't occupying enough. She could think of only one other alternative and set about seducing the first in a long line.

The first after Aranea.

She relived the blur of faces as she came to her hive after her long walk. A walk she'd made many times before in the past eight sweeps, broken a little more each time. No longer distracted, the horrible emptiness seeped back in to her chest and stomach. It pushed hollowly against her fragile skin and clawed with black talons at her throat, ready to climb in to her mind and set her on a path to madness.

Once again, she pushed it down and attempted to drown it with an over full glass of cherry wine and sat slumped on her sofa. A dull ache started in her temples and she sighed wearily, willing it away and closing her eyes to the memory of Aranea occupying the spot to the left of her on the black suede cushion. Tired as she was, she didn't want to fall asleep. Sleep brought dreams

Memories.

Nightmares.

Porrim couldn't face them again, but couldn't stop herself from setting down the three times emptied wine glass and lying down on her side. A blanket lying on the floor from the last time she'd slept like this served as the warmth against her cold skin and colder heart.

Her heart.

Its soft glow faltered against the crushing emptiness sitting beneath her ribs, though she knew its light, love's light, would forever shine on through the darkness.


	3. Unfamiliar Recognition

Though in the gloom of night she could barely see past the end of her aquiline nose, Aranea somehow managed to make out the shape of a certain rainbow drinker's hive and identify it as such. Her cerulean Mary Janes had taken her this far from the library, but their job could only be done from here with her heart and brain's allowance, which she wasn't sure they would give. Her logic argued with her own promise to herself, her heart not sure which side to take.

Risk being broken in a cold rejection, that she felt she somehow deserved, or stay under the weight of it all and slowly break on its own.

Finally, convoluted logic took a bow and stepped out of the internal argument, leaving the heart and promise of a would-be pirate to their own devices. Aranea's shoes once again stepped and she felt the nervous sensations begin low in her stomach and, much like the butterflies they were nicknamed for, flutter up through her chest and in through the cracks of her porcelain heart. Their wings brushed her mind free of any doubt that this was what she needed to do and beat at the inside of her heart, hitting in time to echo out in to the night and through her ears as a hard, almost fearful heart beat.

The beat of her delicate hand raising from its leaden spot at her side to rap tentatively at the black painted surface of Porrim's door.

The beat of the heels clicking down the entrance hallway after a moment's pause, Aranea's arms back at her sides and her hands in front of her stomach, wringing in an attempt to keep the butterflies out.

With an especially loud thud of her heart, the door smoothly opened to show the rainbow drinker who lived there, undeniably tired and certainly not as grand as Aranea last recalled her but still every bit as lovely. Porrim's surprise was written across her face, brows arched and lips parted ever so slightly in the beginnings of a hello that was cut off as soon as she saw who she was about to greet. She stood slightly behind the door, as it was only open a crack and she was still wearing the dress she'd put on from the floor of the stranger's hive after having thrown it there. She slowly opened the door further, moving out so as not to be hiding from her past come to haunt her. Though she stood straight, it was clear to Aranea that the weight sat upon Porrim too.

"Do forgive me, dear, but I'm a little in awe to see you standing on my step. So long without a word, and suddenly you're at my hive?" Though said in a light tone and with a soft chuckle at their closing, the words carried with them such a notable hint of hurt that Aranea nearly winced. Porrim was never one to let others see the side of her that was upset, annoyed, angry, sad, or otherwise. The face she wore for the public was not the same sullen, sorry expression that disgraced her lovely face in the privacy of her own hive. But Aranea knew. She knew what lay beneath the mask of serenity, and knew that was exactly what she was looking at. A mask.

"Porrim I'm terribly sorry to intrude, were you in the middle of anything? I'd really hate to interrupt, but it's rather important that I speak to you. Well not in the grand scheme of things but erm... To me. It's rather important to me that we speak." She managed to get her words out without too much visible trouble, the ever-fluttering butterflies beating new cracks in the porcelain, her fear of being tossed aside making itself more than known in her mind. A part of her wished she would be, perhaps then the weight would finally break her and she wouldn't have to feel any longer. The majority of Aranea, however, hoped with each little bit that could hope that she would be accepted.

Porrim, on the other hand, was still terribly confused. The half of her that longed to help her friends was at was with the half of her that loved but feared Aranea, a battle to decide what she would do. Common sense won out in the end, after all if it was important enough to show up at an ex matesprit's door in the middle of the night it must be fairly crucial. "Of course, I hadn't anything planned. I was merely surprised to see you here at such an hour. Shall we head inside and warm up, or were you intent on catching a chill?" She smiled and pushed down the urge rising in her chest to either cry or close the door and lie down on the floor. With visible effort, she smiled a little more warmly and stepped backwards in to the house as a wordless invitation.

One slow, hesitant step at a time, Aranea set foot in Porrim's hive for the first time in sweeps. Though most everything seemed to look the same as it had before, there was an overwhelming sense of unfamiliar recognition for each thing she saw. The bouquet of preserved roses on the coffee table, littered with trinkets and an empty wine glass and bottle. The simple black rug in front of the fireplace, looking as though it hadn't been moved or sat on in quite a long time and the brick lining the fireplace chalky with soot but cold and unused. She took it all in and shuddered, though not visibly, at how odd things become after one is out of touch with them for a period of time. Returning to Porrim's hive felt to her like she'd walked in to her own home had it been uninhabited for ten sweeps and all of her possessions had been replaced with perfect copies.

"Thank you, Porrim. Again, I'm terribly sorry to bother you at this hour." She stood a little awkwardly at the side of Porrim's sofa, waiting for her to direct her to sit, stay standing, leave, do something to save her from looking like a fool as she undeniably did at the moment. With a dismissive wave of her hand, Porrim closed the door and walked around the couch to take a seat, crossing her legs and patting the spot beside her.

"Not at all, dear, now do come have a seat." Aranea gave a curt little nod and slowly lowered herself to the black suede cushion of the couch, the spot she used to occupy regularly with her head resting on Porrim's chest and their fingers intertwined lovingly. She sighed quietly at the thought, a short pang of remorse shooting through her chest, a glimmering dagger among the butterflies at the pit of her stomach. "Would you care for a cup of tea? Or I've got wine if you'd prefer something more along those lines. Anything at all?" Porrim asked gently, trying to distract herself from their shared thought of how things used to be more than anything. Despite how dim the glow of her heart had become in recent days, the thought combined with Aranea's presence made it flood with cold white light, still empty though somehow much more fulfilled with the mere sight of her. It ached beneath her ribs, demanding to let the light show and being suffocated before the demand could be completed by Porrim once again suppressing her emotions for the sake of another.

"No, I think I'm alright. Thank you. If you'd like to get something for yourself then please do, because I'd like to speak without interruption when I finally work myself up to doing so." Though harsh in her wording, Aranea's voice was gentle as she spoke and prompted Porrim to tell Aranea that she'd be back in a moment before wandering off to the kitchen, once again leaving Aranea with her private thoughts that wouldn't be private for a great deal longer. Part of her, a very large part in fact, screamed at her to flee silently whilst Porrim was in the other room but a slightly larger part that wished for nothin more than to tell it all won out. Her nerves were all alight with anxiety and fear, excitement and amorous joy, pain and sorrow. The cacophony of sensation within her left her entire body thrumming and vibrating in time with the beat of the butterfly wings slowly dying off within her and being replaced with the electric pulsing of her trillions of nerves. Finally, she came back down to herself and took a slow, uneasy breath, letting it out quietly through her nose just as Porrim reentered with a steaming cup of tea, more than a little confused and beginning to dread the words to come.

"Have you erm... Have you figured yourself out, dear? I certainly hope I'm not the cause of such nervous behaviour, and should I be the cause I'm terribly sorry."

"Yes. Yes I believe I'm quite ready." She sighed and finally met Porrim's eyes for a moment, her own glistening with unshed tears, before casting them down again to stare at her folded hands in her lap. With a final shaky breath, she let out eight sweeps worth of pent up thoughts. "Porrim I'm certain you recall what happened that night and I'm certain you know which night I speak of when I say this."

Porrim nodded, keeping any comments to herself and swallowing the lump in her throat with a mouthful of too hot tea.

"I remember that night and each event of it as if they happened just a moment ago and I must say I've never regretted something quite so much in the entire time I've existed, alive or dead. In saying that, I don't mean I regret our relationship or the love I had for you." She had to pause a moment to recover her voice after the short four letter word that danced along the blade of the dagger in her stomach, bursting at its sharp edge and echoing out in to a new generations of butterflies with far more courage but laced with fear that made her blood run cold as ice. "I mean to tell you that I regret terminating it with so little cause and not telling you that I loved you more than anything or anyone I'd ever loved before."

At that, Porrim couldn't stop the bright and beautiful glow of her heart shining out through her eyes in the form of glittering twin tears rolling silently down her cheeks. Her hands shook enough that she was forced to set down the teacup to which she was clinging, and though her fangs dug in to her full lower lip, she couldn't stop its faint quivering as she wondered where Aranea could possibly be going with her speech.

"And though sweeps have passed and others have moved on with the ever changing bubbles, I still feel the same. Heaven knows I've tried and failed to move on more times than Cronus has tried to help me move on, bottom feeding wretch that he is. My point is, Porrim, that I have not and never will cease to be completely and undeniably in love with you."

A tiny whimper from the jadeblood was almost enough to break her stride, but she knew that if she looked up and had to relive her ex matesprit's jade tinted tears, she'd join her in weeping and never finish what she wanted to say.

"I love you and I'm sorry. I can't say how much of what I did has made you suffer, if anything at all, but I'm sorry for any grief I've caused you and for not saying this all sooner. My own stubbornness gets the best of me and I know it's no excuse but it's the only one I have for behaving like such a child. Porrim you meant... You mean the world to me, and I couldn't go on without you knowing that for one more moment, hence this ridiculous little late night visit."

Cerulean tears of her own rolled down Aranea's cheeks and she gave a half sob half laugh in disbelief, the weight finally removed from her heart and the butterflies flying free from its cracks in to the dark open air of Porrim's hive, carrying with them each longing gaze shot at Porrim from a distance and each late night spent in the library with her journal. They were free and Aranea was much the same, save for the dagger in her stomach that only Porrim could remove or drive in deeper.

As she looked up to gauge Porrim's reaction, she was shocked to see that while Porrim was indeed crying freely, a wide smile graced her lips for the first time, the first genuine time, in ages.


End file.
